


On Your Knees

by kisahawklin



Category: UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Consensual Underage Sex, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Multi, Plus feels because that's how I do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24951919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: Yibo's just a horny teenager living in a small space with a bunch of other horny teenagers.
Relationships: But mostly Sungjoo/Yibo, Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Wang Yi Bo, Kim Sungjoo/Wang Yi Bo, Li Wen Han/Wang Yi Bo
Comments: 16
Kudos: 99





	On Your Knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jellyfishfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishfire/gifts).



> Yeah, this was a fast and furious sort of thing, an outline came in half an hour of furious typing one night, and one week full of several dozen fics, six million vids, and four wiki spirals later, I made this. That’s all the research I did, so if I’ve got stuff wrong, sorry, I learned everything I know about UNIQ in about a week. Honestly, I don’t think there’s any more UNIQ stories in me, so I expect this to live in my one-offs forever, but the story itself wouldn’t let go and here we are. This is probably Jelly’s fault anyway. Actually, I take it back, this is ENTIRELY Jelly’s fault, and I’m sure she doesn’t even a little bit guilty about that. I mean, what exactly am I supposed to do when someone says _Yibo should always be on his knees_?

~~~

Seungyoun wakes up hot and kind of horny. It takes him a minute to figure out that it’s because Yibo’s sprawled across him like an octopus, rubbing his cock up and down against Seungyoun’s side. He shoves at Yibo, but he just hangs on tighter and whines.

“Yibo,” he croaks, his voice tired. “Come on, man.”

Yibo whines again, and then his hand shifts down to Seungyoun’s cock and applies some pressure, and _fuck_ , it’s so sweet and perfect that Seungyoun can’t help sliding up into it a little. This slides his hips against where Yibo’s rutting against him and Yibo’s whine sounds different this time, more pleased. 

It’s easy enough to just thrust his hips a little, letting Yibo’s hand do most of the work and listening to Yibo’s warm breath in his ear, and it only takes a couple of minutes before the only sounds are their moans, and then he’s coming, hips arching off the bed, Yibo whining in his ear before his hand shifts off of Seungyoun and onto himself and then he’s coming too, his loose limbs stiff for a moment before they go lax again.

Seungyoun’s hot as fuck now, though, so he throws the covers off them and rolls to the outside of the bed, disentangling from Yibo’s limbs. Yibo turns the other direction, to the cool wall, and he hears Yibo’s soft, regular breathing before the heat even dissipates between them.

~~~

Wenhan catches them at it one night, sneaking into their room late to pounce on them like he sometimes does. They all freeze for one heart-stopping second, and then Yibo groans and rocks his hips against Seungyoun, pressing down with his hand in the way he’s figured out Seungyoun likes it, and Seungyoun throws his head back against the pillows. When he comes a few minutes later, Wenhan is gone and the door is shut.

~~~

It’s not that he cares, Wenhan tells himself, it’s just that it was so fucking _hot_ , Yibo all wrapped around Seungyoun and rubbing himself off with a steady, sensual rhythm that just lives in his body. Yibo’s stupidly pretty for a boy, especially since he went blond, and Wenhan has thought more than once about how nice his mouth is. He hadn’t dared to think things like “what if” because they live in such a small space and there’s cameras around all the time, and even when there aren’t cameras around, there’s three other guys he considers brothers around because what is privacy, anyway?

But when Yibo’s up late, hungry because he’s a fucking teenager still, whining about their diets, Wenhan takes some shrimp chips out of his snacks stash, throwing them at him. Yibo devours them, licking his fingers after he’s done.

Wenhan stares at him, at the gorgeous, unselfconscious way his tongue wraps around his fingers and can’t help it – he shoves up from the table, into Yibo’s space, and pushes two fingers into his mouth. Yibo blinks, incomprehension for just a minute in his wide-eyed stare, and then his eyes half-shut and he presses his tongue against Wenhan’s fingers, tightens his lips around them, and pulls back just a little before taking Wenhan’s fingers into his mouth past his second knuckle.

That gets Wenhan to his feet, which means Yibo’s head tips back, and fuck, he’s suddenly, painfully hard, hard enough that walking away is an impossibility. Apparently Yibo thinks so too, because he slides off his chair and onto his knees, and it’s not like Wenhan was the king of self-control before. 

Yibo’s fingers slip under the waistband of Wenhan’s shorts, and he just… lets him, because at this point his heart’s hammering so loud in his chest he can’t think straight, and Yibo looks at his cock like it’s something delicious and he’s still starving. He looks up at Wenhan in a way he’s pretty sure someone Yibo’s age can’t possibly understand is sexy as fuck, and Wenhan gives in, shuffling forward until Yibo opens his mouth and takes Wenhan’s cock into it.

It’s painfully hot, and Wenhan can’t do much more than keep himself still while Yibo experimentally takes Wenhan into his mouth, slowly, getting a hand around the base of Wenhan’s cock when he can’t take any more. It only takes two slow sucks for Yibo to find a good rhythm and Wenhan loses it after two more, coming in Yibo’s mouth before he can even think to do anything else. 

Yibo chokes it down, coughing a little, and Wenhan’s less embarrassed about that than he should be, because Yibo’s mouth is even hotter around his cock and Wenhan can’t even handle that. But then he notice’s Yibo’s whining, one hand on his own cock, so Wenhan crouches down, pulling Yibo close until he rests his head against Wenhan’s shoulder. Wenhan pets his hair and finally positions himself so he can get a hand down Yibo’s shorts, grabbing him firmly and stroking him easily a few times until he’s coming, too. 

Some slight noise makes him look up, and he sees Seungyoun and Sungjoo standing next to each other in the hallway, staring. When he catches their eyes, they both immediately turn around and go back to their rooms, Sungjoo closing the door softly and Seungyoun leaving his open. Things have changed, Wenhan knows, and he can’t really be sorry for it with Yibo’s soft hair under his fingers.

~~~

Yixuan catches them at it more than once, Yibo on his knees or after, in Seungyoun or Wenhan’s arms, sometimes Sungjoo watching with a complicated expression on his face. He knows it’s just teenage hormones and comfort, so he keeps an eye on them all, but it doesn’t really shift anything between them so he’s fine with it.

He just walks away, leaving them to it and trusting them to take care of each other. 

He hadn’t realized how much comfort is involved for Yibo, though, until the night the other three want to play basketball and Yibo is restless and bitchy, not wanting to go with them but in a mood where they don’t dare leave him alone. Yibo’s not dangerous to himself normally, but he gets homesick the most out of all of them and none of them are left to themselves when a mood like this takes over, anyway. 

He watches Yibo prowl, into the kitchen, back to his room, into the living room, back to the kitchen… he’s on edge, sad and frustrated. When Yixuan finally gets sick of the aimless wandering, he gets up to intercept Yibo halfway between the kitchen and the living room. 

Yibo’s eyes light up and he puts his hands on Yixuan’s waist, going down to his knees in a move that is surprisingly sexy and way too easy for him. The result of an unexpected amount of practice, Yixuan thinks. 

It’s not that Yixuan can’t see how devastatingly pretty Yibo is, or how handsome or sexy or whatever. It’s just that he doesn’t have the kind of urgency these kids have, or the hormones, and when he looks at Yibo, the pretty doesn’t even register anymore, and Yibo looks _lost_ right now, in need of something familiar and comforting.

Before he can tug Yixuan’s pants down, Yixuan goes to his knees, too, settling back on his heels and pulling Yibo onto his lap, hugging him tightly until all the tension leaves his body and he slumps into the embrace, his head on Yixuan’s shoulder. Yixuan presses a kiss to the top of his head, holding on tightly as Yibo starts to cry, shaking in his arms. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, just that he holds Yibo as tightly as he can and the crying is like a rainstorm, heavier and lighter in turns until it dries up and there is only the calm of Yibo breathing damply against his shoulder. 

He hears the boys before they open the door, their boisterous laughter carrying down the hallway. Yibo stirs but Yixuan still has him wrapped up in a crushing hug, so he doesn’t let him pull away, waiting for the others to get in the door and see what’s going on. 

Seungyoun is first, his laughter bright until it cuts off, and then there’s an “oof” as someone runs into his back because he’s stopped moving. Someone closes the door gently, and then Yixuan is looking up at Seungyoun’s face, soft with concern. “Take him to our room,” Seungyoun says, and Yixuan holds onto Yibo as he gets to his feet, Sungjoo and Wenhan helping. 

He carries Yibo, rubbing his back soothingly, and finally lets go as Wenhan and Seungyoun wrangle him down to the bed and curl around him, getting him settled and petting his hair. Sungjoo moves in to take Wenhan and Seungyoun’s shoes off for them, and Yixuan backs away from the picture, knowing Yibo will be fine. 

He’s almost too sweet for this life, he thinks, but unfortunately for him, he’s very, very good at it. He hopes Yibo can make it through mostly unscathed. He hopes that for all of them and hopes what they’re building between them can be a life preserver to buoy them through the rapids together.

~~~

The first Sungjoo hears of it is when Wenhan comes into their room and complains. “Yibo and Seungyoun are getting each other off in their room.”

Nothing about that surprises him, or is really of concern, either to him or to Wenhan. “So?”

“So…” Wenhan says. He pouts at Sungjoo and Sungjoo laughs. 

“They’re horny kids who sleep in the same bed a lot. Why is it a surprise? And how do you know what they’re doing in their room anyway?”

Wenhan looks guilty, and Sungjoo grins. “That’s what you get, Wenhan.”

“Sungjoo,” Wenhan whines again, and Sungjoo just laughs again.

“No, I’m not getting you off. You can jack off in the bathroom like a grown-up.”

Wenhan blows out an irritated breath that’s not quite a sigh, and Sungjoo rolls over, smiling, and goes back to sleep.

~~~

Walking in on Yibo on his knees and Wenhan coming in his mouth is different. That’s _visceral_. His guts rearrange themselves and he goes half-hard in less than a second.

He and Seungyoun are rooted to the spot, watching as Yibo whines and Wenhan crouches to help Yibo out. On top of Sungjoo’s untimely erection and sudden organ rearrangement, now his heart thumps painfully in his chest and he thinks _Oh, Yibo_ with enough fondness that it might choke him. 

Wenhan looks up at them, and they look at each other, and they all know what just happened, but there’s just enough embarrassment that he and Seungyoun turn around and go into their rooms. He closes his door because he is not dealing with the fallout from that, and Wenhan can just wait a minute while he jacks off violently to get rid of the nuisance of a hard-on in connection to Yibo.

He doesn’t begrudge any of them messing around. He was a trainee at Yibo’s age, he knows what it’s like working hard and having no one else to blow off steam with because who would have time to keep a girlfriend even if they could find one? And Yibo’s always been a little awkward around girls anyway.

If he comes with an image of Yibo on his knees with his head tipped back, well. That’s between him and his right hand, and he’s not telling anyone.

~~~

He’s not surprised it becomes a regular occurrence. Who in their right mind would turn down Yibo on his knees? And he’s so eager to please them all, to make them happy. Seungyoun and Wenhan always give him a hand after, Yibo going boneless in their arms for a minute after he comes.

It works to settle all three of them just a little. The hyperactive edge of Seungyoun smoothes and focuses, Wenhan gets comfortable in his own skin, and Yibo just smiles all the time, a bright, happy smile and Sungjoo will never begrudge him that, not when he was so serious and uncomfortable with them all in the beginning.

He can’t help watching, and none of them care about that at this point. He doesn’t even always need to go jack off after every time. But he does think the soft _Oh Yibo_ every time he rests his head on their shoulders after.

He carefully avoids getting into a situation where Yibo might go down on his knees in front of him, because he is only human and knows he could never resist, and he is concerned about what that _Oh Yibo_ might feel like if it was his shoulder Yibo was leaning on.

Yibo’s still homesick, grumpy, or bitchy from time to time, like they all are, so he doesn’t think much of it when they leave him behind to go shoot some hoops. Coming back to find him in Yixuan’s lap, looking like an overgrown toddler after a tantrum, twists something inside him. 

Yixuan has seen the four of them enough to know what’s going on, but he has always maintained a careful distance. Much more careful than Sungjoo’s own distance, which is close enough that he’s likely to get burned one of these times. 

Seungyoun skids across the kitchen, dropping to his knees and putting a hand on Yibo’s back. He meets Yixuan’s eyes and tells him to take Yibo to their room, and Sungjoo and Wenhan scramble to help Yixuan stand with Yibo still in his arms. 

Wenhan and Seungyoun wrangle Yibo onto the bed between them and Sungjoo wants desperately to do something too, to find a way to slide into a bed really only made for one, but he takes a step back with Yixuan instead, watching to make sure Yibo is alright. Yixuan leaves and Sungjoo will in a minute, when he’s sure, when he’s absolutely certain that Yibo is okay. He notices Seungyoun and Wenhan’s shoes, and performs what service he can, removing them and taking them with him as he closes the door behind him.

~~~

Somehow, he’s made things awkward with Yibo. He hadn’t even realized things were any different between them until he’s alone in the kitchen and Yibo comes in, sees him, _apologizes_ , and leaves again.

“Yibo,” Sungjoo calls after him. Yibo stops, his shoulders tense. “Yibo, come here.”

Yibo turns around but keeps his eyes down, his cheeks pinking up like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry, hyung,” he says and Sungjoo looks at him in confusion.

“What are you sorry for, Yibo?”

Yibo shrugs one shoulder up, still not looking at Sungjoo. “You don’t like being alone with me,” he says, and Sungjoo hadn’t even realized he’d been avoiding Yibo out of self-protection.

“Don’t be silly,” Sungjoo says, fervently hoping he can use his typical tactic of ignoring the awkwardness until it goes away. He throws an arm around Yibo and drags him back into the kitchen. “What were you looking for?”

Sungjoo’d been just wandering, planning to look at everything they had before deciding nothing was worth the time or bitching about his diet, and leaving hungry. Yibo’s still growing, though, and Sungjoo hates that Yibo’s expected to go hungry because of an aesthetic. They all encourage him to eat, but he’s already developing the habit of going without, and Sungjoo hates it. 

“Snack?” he asks. He looks in the cupboards, finding the ramen that is Yibo’s favorite, and says, “Come on, let’s make some.”

Yibo looks up at him with adoration in his eyes and Sungjoo smiles at him. He’d missed that, and he wonders how awkward he’s been making things between them that Yibo would respect his distance and not just barrel into his space like he’d barreled into his entire life. 

They cook together, talking music a little, talking motorcycles a little, and when they sit down across from each other and dig in, Yibo’s easy grin makes it all worth it. After, when they’re cleaning up – or, Sungjoo is cleaning up and Yibo is just watching him, smiling like the little brat he is – Sungjoo tells himself he’s glad they’ve straightened things out, that Yibo clearly understands now why Sungjoo has been trying to keep his distance.

And apparently Yibo does, because he comes over and drapes himself across Sungjoo’s back, a quiet “thank you” whispered against Sungjoo’s neck, and when Sungjoo turns to him, wondering if he’s upset or hurt, Yibo just slides down to his knees and Sungjoo stares down at him helplessly, grabbing onto the sink for support because his knees feel like they’re going to buckle.

“Yibo,” he says, and Yibo looks up at him through his lashes, hands resting on the waistband of his basketball shorts. Sungjoo thought watching Yibo take Seungyoun or Wenhan apart was hot but this is _devastating_. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something else, anything else, but Yibo must be able to see how much Sungjoo wants this – if not in the way he can’t stop staring at his mouth, then in the way his erection is suddenly and irrevocably obvious – and he grins, pulling down Sungjoo’s shorts and not hesitating even a little bit before taking him deep into his mouth. 

Sungjoo can’t help the way his head falls back at the sensation; it’s overwhelming heat and wet when he’s been making do with his own right hand for months now. But it only lasts a second. He can’t help looking back down at Yibo’s pretty mouth, sliding obscenely along his cock, and then he puts his hand in Yibo’s hair and tugs lightly. Yibo’s eyes go huge, rolling back in his head a little.

Sungjoo’s a little surprised that no one’s done that to Yibo before, but he’s not complaining when it means that Yibo looks less smugly pleased with himself and more desperately turned on. It levels the playing field a little. It’s also stupidly hot, and Sungjoo has been wanting this as much as he’s been afraid of it for the last several months, so he doesn’t last very long.

Yibo’s shaking when Sungjoo crouches down to give him a hand. His head crashes into Sungjoo’s shoulder and he’s palming himself desperately through his shorts. Sungjoo puts pressure on Yibo’s hand, watching Yibo’s hips snap up a little, listening to the little groan. “Hyung, please,” Yibo says, and Sungjoo thinks probably no one has teased Yibo even a little about this, so maybe it’s time he learns a little lesson himself. 

Sungjoo keeps the pressure on, lets Yibo press his hips up into it, his fingers twitching under Sungjoo’s, and gets his other hand into Yibo’s pants, too, sliding around to squeeze his ass, and listen to the soft whine of Yibo’s frustration. 

Sungjoo uses the gap his off hand has created in Yibo’s shorts to put Yibo’s hand on his own cock, curling his fingers around it deliberately and pressing with his own, getting the movement going before letting go and slipping his hand lower, fondling Yibo’s balls and then pressing behind them, squeezing Yibo’s ass at the same time, and pleased with the soft gasp that escapes Yibo.

Yibo never lasts long when he gets a handjob, so Sungjoo’s a little pleased with himself that Yibo hesitates, that he isn’t just hurtling toward his orgasm the way he usually does, that maybe he’s figuring out something new about what he likes. Eventually, he says, “Please,” again, and Sungjoo relents, grasping Yibo’s cock firmly, stroking it a few rough times and feeling Yibo pulse in his hand, breathing hard.

Yibo settles, slumping into Sungjoo’s arms, and he was right. There’s something sharp and beautiful lodged under his breastbone when he thinks, _Oh, Yibo_.

~~~

Sungjoo gathers secrets about Yibo and protects them like a dragon guarding a hoard. When Yibo blows him and Seungyoun or Wenhan is around, it’s quick and dirty and furious – despite Yibo glancing up at him through his lashes, pleadingly.

When it’s just him and Yibo, he pulls out all the stops, doing everything he knows Yibo likes and trying everything else he can think of. The first time he holds Yibo still with his hands in his hair and gently fucks his mouth, Yibo comes before he does.

That’s not Sungjoo’s favorite thing, though, despite how blindingly hot Yibo’s mouth is. His favorite thing is how Yibo melts into his arms after, how he arches his body when Sungjoo touches him in places other than just his cock. 

His nipples aren’t sensitive, but his upper chest is, particularly just in front of his neck. He loves having his ass squeezed, and his inner thighs are ticklish. Sungjoo is getting dangerously close to wanting to spread Yibo out on his bed and taste him everywhere.

They never have that kind of time, though, and while he’s not ashamed of what he’s doing with Yibo, he doesn’t want to share it, either. He’s greedy for the way Yibo approaches him differently when they’re alone, the way Yibo’s eyes go hungry and he stalks Sungjoo with the grace of a panther. 

He doesn’t know why it’s never occurred to him before, but when he’s sitting on the couch and Yibo comes over with a look in his eye, he turns the tables and goes to his knees before Yibo can get to him and do it first. Yibo stops in his tracks, his bravado gone and a timid look on his face. “Come here,” Sungjoo commands, and Yibo moves forward, awkward and cute instead of predatory. 

Sungjoo rewards him with a smile and a, “Good boy,” and Yibo grins so happily it makes Sungoo’s heart ache. He reaches up for the waistband of Yibo’s pants, too-tight jeans that are going to hobble him, and realizes Yibo’s probably going to need some support. He gets up, one hand on Yibo’s waist, and maneuvers him back against the wall, Yibo’s head tipped back and staring up at him with something like wonder in his eyes.

He goes back to his knees and undoes the jeans, yanking them down just enough for him to get to Yibo’s cock. Sungjoo hasn’t done this in a while, but it’s not that complicated; he takes Yibo into his mouth comfortably and swirls his tongue around the head of Yibo’s cock. Yibo gasps and his head thunks back against the wall, and Sungjoo smiles to himself, pulling out every cocksucking trick he ever learned with the guys he’s been with. Yibo shakes above him, and Sungjoo keeps his hands steady on Yibo’s hips, pressing him against the wall, giving him something to lean on.

When one of Yibo’s hands come tentatively to his head, he put his hand on top of it, threads Yibo’s fingers through his hair, and keeps going. When Yibo comes, he swallows around him, making Yibo shake even harder, and whine a little. When Yibo crouches down, he tumbles bonelessly onto his knees and lets his head fall onto Sungjoo’s shoulder. When Yibo reaches for Sungjoo tentatively, Sungjoo wraps his hand around Yibo’s and thrusts up into it, coming in a handful of strokes. 

When they’re done and he has Yibo in his arms, still shaking, he thinks, _Oh, Yibo_ with such fondness that his heart trips over itself for a couple of beats before settling back down to normal.

~~~

For months, things continue like this, Yibo still happy to go to his knees for any of them – though Yixuan actually refuses once instead of stealthily staying out of range, and it puts Yibo in a funk for days. Sungjoo thinks maybe Yibo’s extreme pouting might change Yixuan’s mind, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t change the way he is with Yibo either, despite the way Yibo snarls at him like a wounded cat, and eventually Yixuan tumbles Yibo onto the couch, holding him tight in all his limbs until Yibo goes boneless and accepts it. The rest of them pile on and they end up on the floor in a sprawl, watching tv.

It’s only a matter of time before Sungjoo gets his time with Yibo alone; they grab a few minutes here or there and Sungjoo has had enough chances to finger Yibo that he has some lube with him anytime he has pockets. He’d added a condom not too long after that, because if the opportunity ever arose, Sungjoo wasn’t going to be unprepared. 

Sungjoo isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing or not that it ends up being a hotel. It’s more privacy than they usually have and a door that locks properly, but he’d wanted to see Yibo laid out on his bed, not the ugly anonymous duvet of one of a hundred hotels they’ve stayed in.

They’re tired, a long day of travel and filmed sightseeing, impromptu rehearsal at the end because they just seem to fall into it as a way to make the travel feel familiar somehow, and if he wasn’t so keyed up by the fact that Yibo has his own room because Seungyoun’s staying at a friend’s, he’d probably get out of the shower and fall into his bed, dead asleep like Wenhan. 

He takes a room key, though he knows he won’t be coming back. Yibo doesn’t actually like to be alone, and it’s not even suspicious that Sungjoo’s going to check on him – when he opens the door, he’s saying, “Yixuan, I’m fine,” even as he registers who it is. 

A beautiful pink blush spreads up his cheeks and he opens the door to let Sungjoo in. “Are you really fine?” Sungjoo asks, and Yibo nods. 

“I thought you might check on me.”

Sungjoo smiles. “Of course, you know I’ll take care of you,” he says, backing Yibo into the room. The door slams shut just as they make it to the foot of the bed, and Yibo sinks to his knees, grin on his face. Sungjoo allows him to start here, because it makes Yibo happy, but when he tips his head back as Yibo takes him into his mouth, motion on his left catches his eye. He turns, and sees the mirror that’s stretched out over a long desk, across from the bed. 

There’s a little whine from Yibo, and when Sungjoo tears his thoughts away from the mirror and looks down, Yibo’s mouth is pouting around his cock. He can see the disappointment on Yibo’s face. He apologizes with his hands, tugging on Yibo’s hair to get him to back off and then holding him still while Sungjoo thrusts into his mouth a few times. Yibo moans, palming his own cock in his pants, and Sungjoo stops. They’ve got time and privacy. He’s not going to let this happen too fast.

He pulls his cock out Yibo’s mouth, feeling Yibo trying to follow, yanking against Sungoo’s hands in his hair. “Hyung,” he whines, but Sungjoo just shakes his head and pulls Yibo up. 

Yibo’s flush has spread down his chest, and Sungoo slides a hand up his shirt to feel skin. Yibo is feverishly warm, and Sungjoo pulls his shirt off over his head. Yibo tries to cross his arms over his chest. He’s a little shy about his body yet, doesn’t like to take his shirt off even when they’re swimming. He hasn’t realized how gorgeous he is, which is one of the most simply beautiful things about him.

The flush reddens and Sungjoo can’t help it, he rests a hand at the base of Yibo’s neck, his thumb on one side of Yibo’s throat and his fingers on the other. Yibo automatically tips his head back, offering it.

 _He has no idea how sexy he is,_ Sungjoo thinks. He turns Yibo toward the mirror, getting behind Yibo, smiling as Yibo’s head falls because he’s being shy. Sungjoo traces his thumb up Yibo’s neck and tilts his head back, and Yibo’s eyes shutter as he looks at himself in the mirror. 

Years later, when every photoshoot of Yibo has at least one picture of him with his head back and throat bared, Sungjoo will think, _I’m the one who taught him that was sexy._

Sungjoo noses at the side of Yibo’s neck, setting his teeth against it gently to hear Yibo gasp again. He can’t leave any marks, but he wants to. He’s suddenly intensely jealous of the first person who will be able to do that to Yibo. 

It’s easy, then, to strip Yibo out of the rest of his clothes and yank his own off, to get them both on the bed on their knees, Yibo in front of him so they can both watch as Sungjoo traces his hands over all the places on Yibo’s body he’s slowly collected over the months, his collarbones and ribs and inner thighs. 

Yibo’s head stays tipped back, eventually coming to rest on Sungjoo’s shoulder, as he watches through half-closed eyes. He’s listless, which is Sungjoo’s favorite – when he’s overwhelmed with how good it feels, it’s like everything just… shuts down. He takes the lube and coats the fingers of his right hand and the palm of his left, grabbing Yibo’s cock when he starts to finger him open, a combination that makes Yibo shudder. 

His eyes are closed now, his mouth dropped open, and Sungjoo has a hard time deciding where he wants to look in the mirror. The pleasure on Yibo’s face is intoxicating but watching Yibo’s hips are tipped back to press against Sungjoo’s fingers stretching him open is almost as good, not to mention the way Yibo’s hands are gripping his own thighs hard enough to leave bruises. It’s overwhelming. 

Yibo knows his body, though, has an incredible amount of control even like this, and when he wants more, he goes after it, working his hips to make the most of Sungjoo’s hands. Sungjoo can’t help thinking of Yibo’s dancing, watching his body roll easily through moves that have always been strangely innocent-looking on Yibo in rehearsal. He thinks everyone is going to know what happened here come practice next week, but Sungjoo doesn’t have it in him to care.

Yibo’s generally quiet – they all are, they don’t need their manager coming to find them when they’re messing around – but he whines when he wants something, and he’s started the breathy complaints every time he shoves himself back onto Sungjoo’s fingers. Sungjoo withdraws which definitely brings a whine out of Yibo, but he just bites softly at Yibo’s neck and says, “Patience.”

Getting the condom on is a fiasco that ends up with lube all over the bedspread, but it’s worth it to see his cock slowly press into Yibo, and then be able to look up and see Yibo’s expression in the mirror, still open-mouthed, but with his forehead crinkled up in concentration. The shift into confusion and complaint as Sungjoo pulls out is even better, especially when he presses in again and Yibo’s head tips forward, his hair falling around his face.

He looks at them in the mirror – Yibo basically on Sungjoo’s lap – and realizes if they lean back a little, both of them can see the way Yibo takes Sungjoo’s cock, and flood of heat prickles at his skin. He shifts them, pulling out so Yibo will be able to see, and says, “Look, Yibo.”

Yibo’s eyes snap up to the mirror, locking onto Sungjoo’s cock, watching greedily as Sungjoo pushes up into him. He unseats himself, rising on his knees to lift himself up, and sinking back down in a roll of his hips that has Sungjoo dizzy with it. 

Sungjoo keeps his eyes on Yibo, the smooth way he works himself on Sungjoo’s cock, eyes hot and hungry as he watches himself, is enough to undo Sungjoo utterly. He can feel himself skating along the edge of coming, and he concentrates on bringing Yibo to that edge before he tips over it.

When he moves his hands along Yibo’s skin, the movement is enough to catch his eyes in the mirror, and Yibo stutters. Sungjoo puts pressure on the places he knows Yibo likes, holding his ribs so he can control the thrusting. Yibo’s head tips back and he groans, still watching himself half-lidded in the mirror.

Sungjoo lets his hands go lower, down Yibo’s ribcage and waist and hips until he’s grasping Yibo’s inner thighs and spreading him, feeling the stretch in Yibo’s muscles under his hands and the way it makes Yibo shake as Sungjoo slows down and goes deeper. 

He doesn’t stop moving, but he does adjust, using his hands on Yibo to choreograph the way their bodies work together. Yibo lets him, shaking under his hands like he does when he starts to fall apart. There’s a low whine almost constant in the back of Yibo’s throat. 

They ride this rhythm together for a little while, Sungjoo keeping Yibo right on the edge and shifting his grip or his thrust if Yibo’s shaking gets less urgent, and finally, when he seeing Yibo fall apart in his hands is about to absolutely ruin him, he shifts one hand to Yibo’s cock, please when Yibo’s whole body convulses and he’s coming beautifully under Sungjoo’s hands just a few seconds later, his body strung tight. 

It’s enough to bring Sungjoo along, coming like cresting a wave, trying to keep his eyes open because the image of Yibo in the mirror, young and wildly beautiful, is something he wants to lock in his memory forever. He watches Yibo come down, watches as the shakes stop and his limbs go loose and heavy, and Sungjoo shifts his arms to come around Yibo, to hold him close and think, _Oh, Yibo_.

~~~

When Sungjoo was a boy, his mother had told him to be careful when opening a door to his heart. He hadn’t known what she meant at the time, but she had been crying and he had nodded and carefully tucked the advice away.

As they all get their chances at the idol life, starting to flicker in and out of their shared spaces, he thinks he finally understands. Every time someone leaves, even for a few days, his heart flutters with _maybe this is it_. It’s never the same when one of them is gone, and when the one is Yibo, everything seems to lose its luster. 

He has his own chances, leaves to film various roles and ads, and is always glad to sink back into his place when he comes home. He wonders how long it will still feel like home.

The question is answered for him the day Yibo moves out, off for months to film a drama and then shoot two other shows in between. His packed suitcase is sitting by the door – not even the first one Sungjoo’d seen there, but somehow the most devastating – and Yixuan has hugged him close and retreated into his room. He may be taking this even harder than Sungjoo.

“Be good,” Sungjoo teases, and Yibo makes a face. 

“I’m always good,” Yibo says.

Sungjoo smiles. “Yes, you are,” he answers, and pulls him into a hug, squeezing as tightly as he dares. 

Yibo pulls back enough to kiss Sungjoo on the cheek. The door in his heart splinters with the force of it.

“Sungjoo,” Yibo says, pulling back to look at him. Sungjoo waits patiently. He knows none of them are good at saying serious things except when they’re playing. Yibo shakes his head, and Sungjoo nods. They don’t need words, anyway.

“Yibo,” he says, letting the smile he can’t put on his face come across in the name. Then he takes Yibo’s face in his hands, and leans forward to kiss him, gently, on the lips. Yibo starts shaking, and Sungjoo pulls him in close, lets him rest his head on Sungjoo’s shoulder. “No matter what happens,” Sungjoo says, “you’ll always have us.”

Yibo nods his head, bringing his arms up to make this another hug, something more manageable than Yibo falling apart and Sungjoo trying to piece him together. They stay like that until there’s a knock on the door and muffled call about Yibo’s car being here.

They don’t say anything else, and Yibo releases him reluctantly. His eyes are wet when he turns to leave. Sungjoo closes the door gently behind him, the one in his heart standing wide open and already waiting for Yibo’s return.

~~~


End file.
